Do you stay up at night? Staring at the ceiling. Cursing your weakness. Your inability to push the needle in the right direction. The dread of the morning sun. Signaling the rise of your rut. Your self imposed loneliness. Buried in the want for validation. Your life lived at the mercy of the whims of those around you.
Are you pissed? Does your heart scream? Are you tired? Done? In rage with your frailty? Sick of hearing its ok to be weak? To be less?
“It is a shame for a man to grow old without seeing the beauty and strength of which his body is capable” — Socrates
There is no beauty in weakness. No reward in the path of least resistance. The beauty lies in strength controlled. In boundless intelligence reined in. In kindness, despite superioity.
“It is better to be a warrior in a garden, than a gardener in a war.”
The good thing is all those emotions, the frustration, and discomfort. These are fuel begging to be lit. Raging waves battering the feeble dam of self delusion. The lies of “this is the last time, tomorrow I would fix this.” The dam that bursts eventually. It always does. It is your duty to channel it, rather than letting run uncontrolled. Breaking you in the process.
It is pain to be disciplined. It is pain to be strong. It is more pain to be weak and unfulfilled.
“Don’t worry about your individual potential. Potential is only the expression of a possibility. Something that can be assessed accurately only in retrospect. In other words, you would never know how good you might have become unless you try.” — Mike Mentzer
I wrote this in personal frustration. Let it reach your heart if you are too. Warriors never stopped existing. Their strength is not measured by the death they cause anymore, but by the lives they touch. Become a warrior. Then tend your garden.
(written while listening to Valhalla by Rok Nardin)
